


Low Lights

by youre_a_cock_sherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Actually idk if Sherlock will be innocent, Anal Sex, And more sex, And other shit I can't remember, Angst, Blow Jobs, Feelings uncomfortable, Insecurity, John is a Sex God, John kinda is too, M/M, Oral Sex, Passionate Sex, Sex, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Sherlock is innocent, Strippers & Strip Clubs, We'll see how the story goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youre_a_cock_sherlock/pseuds/youre_a_cock_sherlock
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has always been lonely, for as long as he can remember.So he does something that is so far out of his comfort zone that he can't even fathom it; he goes to a strip club.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> So this is my first story that I've written in this website, and I really hope it goes well!  
> Thanks for reading it, and it would be so helpful if I had some encouragement from y'all to keep it going (:  
> (Instagram also: @youre.a.cock.sherlock.)

No one showed up at my birthday party when I was seven years old.

I was absolutely heartbroken.

I had tried so hard to make friends, and for some bloody reason, I could just never do it.

Ever since that day, I do everything alone.

Maybe that's why I'm so lonely? No, not lonely. Just alone. I like being alone, though. At least I know I can always rely on myself. 

And not a lot of people like doing what I do! Doing experiments on dead carcasses of animals and the occasional prostitute, shooting guns in the house at walls, not eating nor sleeping for days. I mean, I believe that stuff is very enjoyable to do.

But Mycroft. Fucking Mycroft. Always tells me to go "Enjoy people", "Have some sex", "Experience some feelings besides misery." Can you believe the bastard? 

I ignored his rantings and such for as long as I could, but one day, I finally had enough of it. 

"Mycroft," I sighed, rubbing my temple. "People don't like me and I don't like them. Why should I even bother?"

He looked at me, and I saw a flash of concern pass by, but as quickly as it came, it went just as fast.

"Brother dear, you graduated high school when you were sixteen years old. You're eighteen-"

"And a half." I muttered. He rolled his eyes and continued on.

"You haven't been surrounded by people besides me and the...occasional dead prostitute in two years. You avoid people at all costs. How could you possibly know they wouldn't like you?"

Flashbacks of the horrendous birthday party event entered my mind and I gently shuddered, which Mycroft noticed.

"Oh, Sherlock. That was eleven years ago. People change. You have to experience life or else you're going to die alone! And I...I don't want you to die alone." He croaked the last word.

I scrunched my eyebrows at him. Why does he even care?

"Let's make a bet, Mycroft."

He smiles a bit.

"Go on, brother dear."

"I'll go out somewhere tonight, somewhere I would never go in the first place. If one person does not come up to me by the end of the night, you have to promise me you will never try to coerce me to going out ever again. Bet?"

He pondered this for a bit while stroking his chin.

"It's a bet, Sherlock." 

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Oh God this was a terrible idea.

No.

No.

I can't. 

No, I have to.

I can. 

All these thoughts were passing through my mind as I looked at the building I decided to go into. 

Rusty Solider.

A fucking strip club. 

A gay strip club, in fact.

Why I decided this place I had no idea. The other places my brother thought of seemed too dull. 

But this place, this place I knew no one would come up to me.

After more convincing myself silently, I sneaked through the security guard as he was chatting up another young fellow and making suggestive comments towards him. I shuddered.

The place immediately filled my nostrils with smoke, whiskey, and desperation. 

Beating lights of pink, blue and blood orange filled the stage as the dancer finished his routine, chest heaving with his g-string filled with fivers and tenners. 

I've always known I was gay, since I had no attraction to women whatsoever. So this event definitely wouldn't be hurtful on the eyes. 

"Hey pretty boy, why don't you sit down by me?" A blonde-haired man that looked similar to Rocky from The Rocky Horror Picture Show said to me, smiling devilishly. 

I politely declined and sat far away from him.

Goddammit, I lost the bet already and it had only been two minutes.

I sat in a empty table close to the stage, where the perspiration of the dancers have been evident on the table. It didn't take long before the announcer blared his voice into the speaker, which was of course by the table I sat at. Jesus Christ that was loud.

"GENTLEMEN!!!! PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR THE ARMY DOCTOR YOU ALL KNOW AND LOVE, THE ONE, THE ONLY, HAMISH!!!"

Whoops and hollers filled the room, and I smirked. This ought be good.

But then...

He came out.

Sandy-haired man, almost silver, with eyes as blue as the deep ocean. A smile that did something strange to my heart. Perhaps I needed a doctor?

But he was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen.

The music blaring should've hurt my eardrums, but I was too focused on the beauty of Hamish. His sculpted legs were of God-like structure, his chest that had blonde hairs splattered all over it, and he wore a skimpy outfit, so his arse and bulge were also very pleasant to see.

As the song started to end, I saw that he noticed me, and he had lust in his eyes. 

No. That surely couldn't have been from me? The lighting must've been weird, his pupils were dilated a tremendous amount.

He came towards me, crawling on the ground, licking his lips, and I felt my erection growing rapidly. Shakily I took out a fiver and slid it towards him, but he ignored it and kept on grabbing his crotch in front of me.

I moaned unintentionally, and he must've heard it, as he bit his lip and gently touched my face. He was bloody glorious. 

Unfortunately the song ended, and Hamish smiled as he got up, bowed as he collected his money, and walked off.

What the actual hell just happened to me?


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has one question racing in his mind:
> 
> Who the hell is this Hamish guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not expecting all the wonderful feedback and compliments I've been getting from all of you lovely people, in all honesty. Thank you all so much, let's keep it going! (: *hugs*

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

H o l y s h i t. 

I cannot believe that just happened.

I'm usually quite articulate with my words, but I cannot even fathom what had just happened to me.

My legs felt like jello and my head was pounding as I tried to compose myself. Slowly I got up and started my way towards the door, when I started to hear cheering coming from behind me. 

I turned around, and would you believe it, Hamish was standing there smiling, shaking hands with a couple of guys. Presumably the owners of the place.

He had changed into a pair of dark blue jeans with gigantic holes and a white t-shirt that clung to his chest. I have never seen anyone so.... beautiful before. My breathing hitched as he locked eyes with me and he smirked. 

I ran out of that place as fast as I could, and I cursed myself all the way. I decided to go by Angelo's and smoke a cigarette, leaning against the wall, needing to collect my thoughts. 

I decided to deduce people. That always made me feel better.

A woman walked by me, wearing a black jumper and a purse to match. I deduced she was approximately thirty-three years old, a heavy drinker and has a gambling problem, recently left her husband to be with his cousin Martha, is from Manchester and moved to London in dreams of becoming an actress but is working secretly at a brothel instead, and- 

"Hey there," A voice spoke to me. I begged to a higher power that it wasn't Hamish, but I turned around and fucking lo and behold, there he was in all of his glory. I nodded slightly at him. He smiled and I could've died right there and been happy.

"I, uhm, wanted to talk to you. I haven't seen you at the club before tonight, are you-" 

Suddenly I went into more deducing mode. "Your name is John Hamish Watson, you're twenty-six years old and just recently came back from Afghanistan after getting shot in the shoulder. You're a very intelligent man, hence becoming a doctor at the age of twenty-three. But for some reason, you cannot seem to find a job in your profession around this area and so you strip five nights a week at that God-forsaken bar even though you know you can do so much better than that. Your father abused you at an early age and your mother knew about it but decided not to say anything. He also sexually abused your sister so you decided to paralyze him from the waist down. You like women but you've always been interested in being with a man, hence the stripping at a gay bar. You like their reactions, you crave them, it's like your drug." 

He stared at me, eyes widening in surprise and shock. I smirked at his reaction and continued to puff on my cigarette. 

"How in the hell did you know that? That was... amazing." John stuttered. 

"Really? People usually hate it when I deduce them. They usually tell me to piss off." He laughed when I sputtered that out.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

He beamed. "What a beautiful name. So what made you decide to come to a gay strip club?"

I shrugged nonchalantly and stomped on my cigarette. "My brother wants me to go make 'friends' and so we made a bet. I of course lost the goddamn bet."

"What was the bet for?" Placing his hands on his hips and giving me a worried expression.

"If I went to some crazy unexpected place and had no one talk to me for the whole night, he would never try to make me go out and see people ever again." God, he must think I'm pathetic. Well, I am.

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. Of course people would come talk to you. You're fucking gorgeous. There was a reason why I came up to you when I was dancing. You are beautiful." John whispered, kissing my cheek.

I stared at him, eyes widen. I've never been told that I was attractive before.

"You've never been told that?" It's like he read my mind. "Dear fucking lord people are blind."

"You're the beautiful one, John. I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you." A rosy color appeared on his cheeks, and if that wasn't the most adorable thing I had ever seen, I don't know what is.

"I feel like kissing you. Can I?" He asked.

Nodding but embarrassed, I put my head down. Slowly, he gently grabbed my chin, tilted it up, and placed his lips upon mine.

I would never tell him that he was my first kiss. The stripper I met about twenty-five minutes ago gave me the best thing I had ever experienced.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He had consumed me, he had consumed my entire being. I wanted him. I wanted him to destroy me. But once he did, I wanted to die."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Again, thank you for all of the wonderful and enjoyable comments. They really make my day (:  
> On another note, if you all have any suggestions on what you would like to happen in the story, please let me know! The readers are the most important part of the story, you know <3

I call myself a high functioning sociopath.

I can be cold, calculating, cruel, and a complete arsehole.

I can ruin the self-esteem you've been building up for years and tear it down in thirty-seven seconds.

I was sent to detention because I had called my Advanced Placement Chemistry teacher a complete imbecile and deduced his affairs with two of his best students of which were both genders in front of the head master. 

I can be an emotionless machine. Love? What is the point of love? Love is a sentiment defect found on the losing side.

But John... he brought out something different in me. He brought out feelings I had never felt before on that night we were together. After he had kissed me, lust had consumed both of our minds, and so he took me to his flat.

I barely got out the words "John, you should know I am a virgin", before he shoved his tongue down my throat even further. His hands roamed my body, grasping my buttocks and bulge. I made noises that I have never heard myself make before, which was quite an odd experience.

"God, you are just so sexy." John grumbled into my mouth as he unhooked my belt and slip my Belstaff coat off.

I couldn't even say anything, my fears of losing my virginity were being washed away by the sinful thoughts that clouded my mind palace. My mind palace was a sacred place for me to retreat too, but at that moment, I just did not care.

He pushed me onto his bed, climbing on top of me and sucking on my neck. By this time, we were both naked except for our pants.

Looking devilishly into my eyes, he left a trail of kisses down my body until reaching my crotch. He blew hot air through the thin fabric of my undergarments and I swear to God I could see stars. 

"John..."

"Shhhh, baby, you're gonna be okay." 

John peeled off my pants and smiled when he saw how hard my penis was.

"You are such a good boy. Your cock is all nice and hard for me, hmmm? You want me to suck this, Sherlock?"

All noise I was making was incredibly unrecognizable and unattractive, but seemed encouraging to him.

He placed my penis into his mouth, and I cannot even explain what euphoria it was. Sucking, kissing, techniques that I was wondering how he even did that with his tongue.

I was already close to the edge of climax, and John recognized the tension my body was doing, and so he stopped.

"No, Sherlock. Not until I fuck you."

I quivered, he was so...dominant. A perfect specimen of manhood.

John flipped me over so that I was on my hands and knees. He slapped my arse, over and over again while swearing dirty nothings into my ear.

"Your arse is so gorgeous. I'm going to fuck that arse until you cry."

I nodded quickly, begging for him to fulfill me. 

Next thing I hear is opening of condoms wrappers and a bottle of lubricant being squeezed. I braced for this, John's penis was slightly above average (from what I've seen with certain realistic porn videos and walking in on Mycroft and another man accidently) and I had never experienced sex before.

"You'll be okay, love. I'll be gentle with you." He whispered, as he kissed my hole once more before gently and slowly pushing himself in me.

I groaned loudly as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into me.

"Are you okay?" He asked. Once again, I nodded.

"Good, because I'm going to fuck you now." And that he did. I wanted him to. I wanted him to devour me from the inside out.

It all became a blur from the sensations. He hit my prostate over and over again, he pulled my hair and made me moan his name. I couldn't tell you how long intercourse was, if it was five minutes or five hours.

Slam. Slam. Slam. Moan. Groan. Curse. Swear. Slam. Slam. Slam. Whore. Slut. Fuck. Shit. Slam. Slam. Slam.

We had both orgasmed at the same time, collapsing hard. After about five minutes, slowly John pulled out of me, and got up from his bed. 

"I... I think you should leave."

My heart stopped cold. "What?"

"I said leave. I'm done with you." He snapped, boring his eyes into my soul.

I just sat there looking back at him. How dare he.

"Fuck you," I spewed as I got my clothes and left. "FUCK YOU!"

\---------------------------------- 

I had cried that night for the first time in about four or five, possibly six, years. I felt completely broken.

What was he thinking? What was I thinking? 

I decided after about a week to go back to strip club and confront him.

I had arrived precisely twenty minutes before his part of the show, that way we would have plenty of time to talk.

The fucking Rocky Horror Picture Show lookalike tried coming up to me again, but I pushed past him and muttered "Fuck off."

My heart, my supposed robotic heart, stopped completely when I saw him. John was there, at the table I sat at when I first saw him. But he was sitting in someone's lap, his arms locked around their neck. He looked adoringly at them, the way he looked when first started talking to me.

I couldn't move, I couldn't blink, I couldn't even breathe.

He had consumed me. I wanted him. I wanted him to destroy me. But once he did, I wanted to die.

I walked out of that club and promised myself never to return.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is devastated. So what's a boy to do after being heartbroken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST WANT SCHOOL TO BE OVER LIKE HOLY S H I T.  
> Anyway, enjoy this short update; it's gonna be fucking wild! (;

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

FUCK.

It's such foul language to use, but all articulate thoughts and feelings I had just dissolved into acid. 

I had the biggest empty and hollow feeling in my chest after seeing... him with another man. I gave him my everything that night. I never thought I would lose my virginity, let alone to someone I had just met, and for him to just use me like that was completely and utterly cruel.

Grabbing the dull razor I had used all too often in my adolescence, I breathed heavily as I made quick lines across my wrists. The red liquid running down my arms looked strange against my ghostish pale skin. It made me smile, though. It was the one thing I could always rely on, pain, to convince myself that feelings are despicable and useless. Feelings are unnecessary to society and they should be illegal, in all honesty.

Eventually Mycroft came into my room without knocking and saw that I had fallen asleep with razor in hand and my blood stained white sheets.

He woke me up aggressively and angrily, as if I had done something wrong. I told him to fuck off, and that made him even more livid. 

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Sherlock Holmes?!"

I stared at him for a moment, before saying it.

"Someone I met that night fucked me. They fucked me and they used me."

The expression on his face was of anguish and pity for me, which I loathed.

"Oh, brother dear...I-"

"No, no, no. I'm fine. It happened last week. I cut, and I get over it. It's a better alternative than using drugs, you know. So I'm fine, Mycroft. Really."

Before he could reply, I pushed him out the door and locked it quickly. His insistent banging and begging me to let him in quite annoyed me so.

Brothers. Why do they care so much?

I turned on my old record player and had "Danse Macabre" drown out the entire world as I slowly fell asleep and dreamt of making love with someone that actually loved me back. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

"How do I apply at this establishment?" 

"Well, Mr... Holmes," The man looks up at me from his glasses, glancing at my quite impressive resume after I placed it in front of him impatiently. "Do you have any experience in dancing or performing in front of a crowd?"

"I was a protégé of a very well-known violinist and had the wonderful opportunity to play along side him as well as by myself in front of the Queen when I was eight years old."

Mouth agape, he stared at me. "You're bullshitting me, aren't you?" 

I furrowed my eyebrows at his preposterous statement. "I don't have time to 'bullshit', Mr. Hunary. I'm an accomplished musician with a lot of talent, and you would be lucky to have someone like me work at this institution." 

"Is that so, Mr. Holmes? Well, tell you what. You perform tonight, and if the crowd likes ya, you're hired. Fair?"

Pleased with this arrangement, we shook on it. 

"You'll be on at seven thirty, you can get ready in...dressing room number four. You'll need a name though, what do you wanna call yourself?"

I thought back to all the filthy names John had spit at me when he took my virginity. One, for whatever reason, stood out to me, however.

"I'd like to be called Dirty Little Virgin."

Mr. Hunary bit his lip to keep himself from laughter, but he agreed on it, and I was on my way.

John was going to explode once he saw me. Oh, the bastard needed to prepare himself for what I was going to do.

I broke my promise to never return there again, but at that point, I just did not care. My "emotions" were more important than my pride.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock had never felt more alive before.
> 
> Was it worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Apologies for not updating in a bit, I've been trying to relax over this winter break. But you all deserve another chapter, so hopefully you enjoy. Also, I was thinking of making a one-shot of Johnlock in a... Dorian Gray-esque sense. Lemme know if that sounds good to you! Cheers :)  
> Also, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year!!!!!  
> ALSO, "Infra 5" is by the wonderful Max Richter. I figured it's a song no male dancer would do, except Sherlock of course. It's very beautiful though, one of my favourites, I highly recommend it.

What if they notice my scars?

What if I'm too skinny, and not big and strong enough like the other dancers?

What if I'm too hideous?

What if I go up there, and I just can't do it?

No.

I have to.

This is for me. Also to spite John, but it's mainly to prove to myself that I'm better than what I think I am.

I can do it.

I ran my hands through my thick and curly hair once more, looking in the mirror with terrible lighting and making sure I look decent enough; a black g-string along with a long sleeved, flowy, and thin black shirt.

The men in here seem desperate enough, right? They surely won't mind how I look, correct?

"Uh, 'Dirty Little Virgin', you're up." Samuel, the stage manager, called out to me. I nodded, and slowly followed him to behind the thin and silvery curtain. There was no turning back now, I had to go up there.

"AND NOW GENTLEMEN!!! WE HAVE A BRAND NEW DANCER HERE TONIGHT, SO DON'T BE TOO AGGRESSIVE AND ROUGH WITH HIM, BUT MAKE HIM FEEL SPECIAL. WELCOME ABOARD, 'DIRTY LITTLE VIRGIN'!!!!!!"

The amount of "whooping" and "hollering" that exploded from these men quite startled me, but I shook it off and let the music start to flow through the audience.

Usually dancers pick erotically explicit songs to gyrate their bodies too, but I decided to take another route. "Infra 5" filled the room softly, and the room hushed as I came out.

The stage was dark, and the dim spotlight shined on me as I scanned through the crowd. Eyes never left my sight, their mouths agape; it was quite extraordinary. 

I saw him, sitting there at the very table where I first laid eyes on him. My heart stopped, but I continued to ignore him and move my body to the sound of the violin. Suddenly, I reached the extremely cold metal pole and very s l o w l y climbed to the top of it, sliding my way down in a graceful manner just using my legs. I slid to the bottom and started to roll around, grabbing various parts of my body in a sensual motion, closing my eyes and slightly moaning.

I didn't once dare open my eyes. The moment became spiritual for me. For once in my life, I felt as I was in control. That I had control over everyone else's emotions.

I had never felt more alive before.

It was powerful.

Unfortunately, the song had to end. I opened my eyes to see everyone just staring at me. A couple of gentlemen were shaking, one was actually crying. I stared at them back, and swallowed the tears that started to form a lump in my throat. I knew I shouldn't have done this. I was a complete fool.

Out of nowhere, however, applause emerged. So much of it, with shoutings of "Oh my God" and "Encore!" mixed in there. I took a quick little bow while picking up some money and left the stage, taking a last look at John, who looked pale as a ghost.

"Wow. That was, uh, incredible. Fantastic. A-amazing." Samuel stuttered, avoiding eye-contact with me.

"Thank you Samuel, for your kind words. What do I do now, exactly?" I replied, placing a hand on his shoulder and slightly smiling.

"Well, you could either leave straight through the back or front door, or you could go out and meet some your adoring fans as they buy you drinks and tell you how beautiful you are. Your pick!" He laughed gently.

"Can I at least change back into my normal clothes before I go back out there?" I questioned. 

"Of course, my dear. As awful as this shithole is, I do appreciate the fact that we take care of our dancers and don't parade them around like they're whores. Go ahead and change, and just walk through that door on the left to come out into the lobby."

I thanked him once more, as I went into my room to change back into my "normal" clothes, and gave myself a pep-talk before going out to see the people.

That was a terrible fucking idea. 

They swarmed like ants around me, giving me praises that ranged from lovely ones such as "You are the most gorgeous man I have ever seen" to crude ones such as "I'd love to suck your cock, do you charge?"

I decided to get the hell out of there, when all of a sudden, a man grabbed me aggressively and shoved his tongue down my throat. His hands roamed my body and grabbed me in my most intimate places, and that's when I started to whimper. I tried to push him off of me, but he was too strong. I felt him stroking my penis and I couldn't help but shake.

Next thing I see, John tears him off of me and starts punching him mercilessly. The other men crowded around and tried pulling John off of him.

"YOU FUCKING PRICK, DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH HIM EVER AGAIN OR I WILL SLIT YOUR THROAT!!!" He growled maliciously at the man, who instantly ran away from him. John looked at me and helped me to the door.

"Are you okay, my love?" He whispered in my ear, fixing my coat collar.

"I, uhm, y-yeah, I'm okay. Thank you John." I croaked, avoiding eye-contact. 

"Hey, Sherlock. I'm sor-"

"Cut the bullshit, John. Don't you have other men to kiss?" I sneered, pushing him out of my way and out the door. The air was bitterly cold, but anything was better than being in that god forsaken club. I waved down a taxi, when a piercing scream filled the air.

"SHERLOCK!!!!"


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy (: also, it's hard as hell to write through Sherlock's POV so I hope you all are appreciative of this, haha. Just kidding, but I'm glad you're all enjoying it!

The tears that fell seemed to have shaken the ground beneath me. Everytime it reached the floor, my body convulsed.

I couldn't stop sobbing. I loved John, I really did. I wanted him back, but my pride, or whatever the hell it was, it was standing in my way.

Mycroft was screaming at my door to let him in so we could "discuss these matters and let his men handle the situation", but I kept telling him to shut up and go away. Alas, I grew tired of his insistent yapping and so I let him in.

"Sherlock... Jesus Christ." He gasped, clutching his chest after having screamed so much. 

I sniffed and rolled my eyes. "Mycroft, I don't understand why you have to care so much. Is it really necessary?" 

"Brother dear, I-" he shuffled awkwardly, and I raised an eyebrow. "I care about you. And it breaks my heart to see you like this." 

My eyes widened. "How the HELL am I supposed to reply to that, Mycroft? Jesus!"

"Oh shut up Sherlock, it's true. I do care and I just want this... young man to not cause you any pain."

"Well, I can handle it on my own, thank you very much."

Mycroft looked at me, and I looked at him. Suddenly my so-called "emotions" got the best of me, and I fell weeping into the arms of the British Government, who in return held the World's first (future) Consulting Detective.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Emotions are unnecessary.

I hate them.

God, I really hate them. 

After Mycroft saw me at my weakest point and left the room awkwardly, I decided to sneak out through the window and explore London with these thoughts running through my mind palace.

The bitter cold scaled through my bones just like the drugs used to do. Those sounded extremely pleasing at the moment, but I settled on a cigarette. In addition to wanting to John back, that man that touched me made me feel repulsive. The whole experience of being free by dancing was absolutely ruined by him. My teeth started chattering from how disgusted and angry I felt, and so I decided to count the money I had received from the tips. I counted £275, which was a surprisingly high amount as I had only grabbed a small handful from what was on the stage. 

"I fucking love you, you bastard. I don't fall that quickly but I fucking love you. And I'm so sorry."

That voice.

I turned around and there John Watson was. Visibly shaking and eyes puffed as mine were, I was speechless.

"Were you... talking to me?" I questioned him, after a while.

Chucking darkly, he came closer to me until he was approximately three inches away from my face.

"Of course I was. When I met you, I knew I was fucked. I knew you were gonna change my life and I was scared and I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I truly am. I'm such a piece of shit but I can make it up to you. Please. I'll do anything." 

His voice cracked more and more on every word, and my heart sunk.

"You.. love me?" 

His answer was sealed onto my heart when he pressed his lips upon mine. Passionately, wildly, absurdly. 

"I want you... to touch me." I growled hastily into his mouth. He nodded, and after kissing me a couple of more times, he hoisted me over his shoulders and carried me to his flat.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola everyoooone, I suck at updating but here I am once again. Since johnlock didn't become "officially" canon like it was supposed to, hopefully all the beautiful fanfic that the brillant fans in the Sherlock fandom write will fill your heart.  
> And just letting you know, its okay to upset and sad and frustrated with the writers, okay? They led us on and messed with our feelings. I love you, okay? And we all deserve the best. So enjoy <3

"You are so beautiful. The most beautiful creature I have ever met." John whispered in my ear, as he slowly shed off all of my clothes, until the only thing left was my bare soul. 

"I...I, thank you John. You are absolutely incredible." My reply came in a croak, pleasure flashed before my eyes from love-bites being placed upon my neck and collarbone. He chuckled, and the vibration hummed through my bones. The arousal was absolutely blinding me, until I felt his hot breath on my groin. "You want this, Sherlock? You want me to suck this?"

I whimpered and nodded vigorously, looking down into his eyes as he grinned mischievously and slowly started to lick my length. I let out a long groan, biting my lip harshly. Blood dripped down onto John's tongue as he started bobbing up and down and rubbing my balls. I started shaking, moaning, my eyes clouded with lust.

All of a sudden, he stopped sucking me and bent me over the bed. I was taken aback but more turned on than ever. 

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't be able to sit or walk correctly. And you're not going to cum until I say so. Got it?" John growled, nipping my neck and placing a finger inside me. I yipped as he moved it around, gently touching my prostate. "John, please... please fuck me." I moaned, burying my head into the pillow and bracing myself for t-

Oh.

Ohhh.

FUCK. 

"JOHN OH MY G-GOD!!!" I screamed. It felt absolutely extraordinary! His nails dug into my hips and started fucking me faster, grunting my name and other obscenities with every other stroke. 

"Shit Sherlock, shit shit shit you feel so fucking good!!!!" 

I started seeing stars, I had never felt pleasure like this before. As the slamming continued and my knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets so tightly, the feeling of orgasm started to arise. 

"I l-love you John, I'm gonna c-"

"No... you're not Sherlock, you don't cum until I tell you too." 

"Please John, please let me."

Silence, besides the sound of smacking. 

"Tell me you love me. Say the w-words 'I love you John Hamish Watson'. Say them!" He whispered in my ear, sentiment dripping from his voice.

"I love you infinitely, John Watson. I love you so much." Words seemed to escape my mouth, even though it felt like I couldn't breathe from all of the pleasure he was giving me. But he finally uttered those magical words; "I love you too. Now cum for me."

And I did. John, feeling my body's reaction to the orgasm, rippled right after me. Those moments together were the most intimate moments I've ever had. 

He slowly took himself out of me, cleaning myself as well as himself off, and kissed me deeply. "You are absolutely extraordinary." 

I smiled. "You're talking about yourself, my dear Watson. Now, kiss me again."

And he did. Kissed me for hours until I drifted off to sleep.


End file.
